left hand, gravely apologizing for the
fact that, owing to a late infirmity, he could not offer the right.
Her smile exquisitely combined sympathy, gratitude, admiration. Then
Dick spoke to Nell, likewise offering his hand, which she took shyly.
Her reply was a murmured, unintelligible one; but her eyes were glad,
and the tint in her cheeks threatened to rival the hue of the rose she
carried.

Everybody chatted then, except Nell, who had apparently lost her voice.
Presently Dick remembered to speak of the matter of getting news to
Thorne.

"Senor, may I write to him? Will some one take a letter?... I shall
hear from him!" she said; and her white hands emphasized her words.

"Assuredly. I guess poor Thorne is almost crazy. I'll write to
him.... No, I can't with this crippled hand."

"That'll be all right, Gale," said Belding. "Nell will write for you.
She writes all my letters."

So Belding arranged it; and Mercedes flew away to her room to write,
while Nell fetched pen and paper and seated herself beside Gale's bed
to take his dictation.

What with watching Nell and trying to catch her glance, and listening
to Belding's talk with the cowboys, Dick was hard put to it to dictate
any kind of a creditable letter. Nell met his gaze once, then no more.
The color came and went in her cheeks, and sometimes, when he told her
to write so and so, there was a demure smile on her lips. She was
laughing at him. And Belding was talking over the risks involved in a
trip to Casita.

"Shore I'll ride in with the letters," Ladd said.

"No you won't," replied Belding. "That bandit outfit will be laying
for you."

"Well, I reckon if they was I wouldn't be oncommon grieved."

"I'll tell you, boys, I'll ride in myself with Carter. There's
business I can see to, and I'm curious to know what the rebels are
doing. Laddy, keep one eye open while I'm gone. See the horses are
locked up.... Gale, I'm going to Casita myself. Ought to get back
tomorrow some time. I'll be ready to start in an hour. Have your
letter ready. And say--if you want to write home it's a chance.
Sometimes we don't go to the P. O. in a month."

He tramped out, followed by the tall cowboys, and then Dick was enabled
to bring his letter to a close. Mercedes came back, and her eyes were
shining. Dick imagined a letter received from her would be something
of an event for a fellow. Then, remembering Belding's suggestion, he
decided to profit by it.